


Worlds of Beauty (And Terror)

by Nevcolleil



Category: Inception (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: It’s reassuring that Arthur has still kept himself, somehow, through all of this madness... That he doesn’t want to hunt down and kill his “competitors” in the demon Azazel’s little pony pageant. But he seems to be the only one to have done so.And Eames' heart clenches at the way Arthur breaks on the words. "I don't want to be what that fucking thing wants me to be!""Then you won't be, Arthur... I won't let myself get dead, love, and you won't let yourself go batshit crazy and take over the world... And we'll have many more years together to explore thatfascinatingtalent of yours."
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Worlds of Beauty (And Terror)

Eames doesn’t like it… He hasn’t liked it from the beginning. Talk of demons and demons’ wars.

“So, you’re going to do it, then… Kill this bloke and take home the pot, as it were.” Not that Eames sees a pot of any kind in this “game”. Just killing... Followed by more killing, with the payoff being you get to be in charge of the next wave of killing, whenever that begins. Made less horrific (yes, less) only by the fact that Arthur’s gotten this neat ability to bend people’s perceptions in reality - outside of the dreamworld – out of the deal.

No, Eames doesn’t like this _at all_.

“ _No_ ,” Arthur says firmly, honestly – Eames can tell – which is something. “Not if I don’t have to,” he adds. “But if he comes looking for me… Eames, you know I’ve got to.”

Eames knows. His heart pounds and adrenaline races through his blood with the knowing. It’s reassuring that Arthur has still kept himself, somehow, through all of this madness; that he doesn’t want to hunt down and kill his “competitors” in the demon Azazel’s little pony pageant. But he seems to be the only one to have done so. Every other “special kid” that they have heard of so far has come looking for Arthur or turned on him eventually. Every. Single. One. Even the ones they both tried (Arthur protesting, all the while, that it wasn’t safe for Eames to even stay with him; Eames telling his lover, with all due affection, to kindly “ _fuck_ off, I’m not leaving you”) to show a better way.

The chances that this Winchester, whomever he might be, isn’t going to walk up to Arthur’s door looking for trouble aren’t good.

“Arthur, what if he-”

“It’s possible. You need to think again about sticking around here, Eames.”

Of course Arthur knows what Eames is thinking. Neither of them has thought of much else since that one kid threw a _car_ through their living room. What if Winchester has an even greater power than the others who have come before him? Others whose powers got progressively harder to combat. A man who could kill with a touch; a girl who could make demons do whatever she wanted… A Superman with unbelievable strength.

What if Winchester can, like… kill with his brain? Or bend reality instead of just the perception of it? (Is that even possible? Eames can’t say no for sure; so much of his world now is what he would have once called impossible.)

"I've told you, darling, f-"

" _Eames,_ I mean it!" Arthur all but growls, eyes as wild as any demon's, Eames imagines. But full of so much human emotion, Eames is humbled seeing it.

Yes, he knows that Arthur cares for him. But it doesn't hurt to be reminded once in a while.

"He doesn't have to kill _me_ ," Arthur says, voice wrecked. "Don't you get that! All he has to do is kill _you_ and I'm as good as gone. Eames..." And Eames' heart clenches at the way Arthur breaks on the word. "I don't want to be what that fucking thing wants me to be!"

Eames gathers Arthur into his arms, clings all the tighter to him when Arthur lets him without so much as a grumble - as clear a sign as any of how near to his breaking point Arthur has come. Eames holds Arthur to his chest, whispers sweet nothings in his ear. And this: "Then you won't be, Arthur... Do you get that? I won't let myself get dead, love, and you won't let yourself go batshit crazy and take over the world..."

Arthur makes a sound. Maybe a sob, maybe a chuckle; Eames is holding him too close to tell and can't see Arthur's face to judge by his expression.

To improve the odds, Eames says, "And we'll have many more years together to explore that fascinating talent of yours."

As it always does, the subject of Eames's words - and his lascivious tone - make Arthur stiffen. But there's humor in Arthur's voice as he replies, "I can do that because some sick, demonic bastard wants me to trick people into killing themselves in large numbers." Arthur's voice is droll. "Not so our sexlife can be extra imaginative."

"Whatever," Eames says blithely, undeterred. "Serves our purposes anyhow. What do you say, darling? Think us up something exotic. Where haven't we had sex yet?"

This is where Arthur's supposed to say that they've never had sex anywhere truly strange - that it's only ever been a figment of his own imagination. But instead he pulls back, he looks at Eames for a long moment, dark eyes too intent for Eames to soldier on in his attempt to lighten the mood. Arthur kisses him lightly.

"Thank you," he says quietly, hands curled around Eames' forearms, saying other things that Arthur can't - that they don't.

Eames nips at the curve of Arthur's jaw. "Thank me in Constantinople. I could go for a toga party right about now. Roman bath houses... Ooh, or no-"

Arthur gives him a shove. "Ass. I shouldn't encourage you," he says, but when Eames blinks the room shifts, and suddenly the two of them are standing in-

Eames isn't entirely sure where they're standing. Somewhere lovely, lit by a full moon, which is a neat trick, as it's only about noon in reality. Eames presses his lips to Arthur's grin and encourages himself.

'We can do this,' he thinks. They can make it through. If Arthur can dream up worlds of terror as convincing as his worlds of beauty...

That poor sod Winchester doesn't have a prayer.


End file.
